


Bedtime Story

by orphan_account



Category: Princess Tutu
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 17:56:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fakir tells Ahiru a story from his childhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedtime Story

It was the little muffled scream that woke him up completely.

Fakir had already been half-awake, but the sound of distress from the next room jolted him the rest of the way there. It was the middle of the night, but that didn’t matter – without stopping to think about it, he rushed next door to Ahiru’s room. More muted noises greeted him as he entered, and turning her bedside lamp on revealed that she was crying into her pillow. She blinked up at him with tear-filled eyes as the dim light touched her face. “F-Fakir…”

“Hey.” He sat down on the bed beside her. “What’s wrong? Did you have a bad –” He fell silent as she abruptly sat up and flung herself at him, pressing her damp face against his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her trembling body, one hand coming up to cradle her head as she cried. For a few minutes he simply held her, until she seemed to calm down enough to speak. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“N-no!” Ahiru shook her head. “I, I… I just want to forget about it.”

“All right. Then…” He stroked her hair, and thought for a moment. “Stop me if you’ve heard this story before. Once upon a time, there was a knight…” Fakir thought he heard a tiny quack in response, and smiled. “But no, I’m getting ahead of myself. When this story takes place, he was not yet a knight. He had neither princess nor prince to safeguard. He had a sword, but it was a child’s toy, carved of wood, and could not cleave anything save for the imaginary monsters he pretended were there.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard this one before,” Ahiru mumbled into his shoulder.

“Good. Anyway, one day, the little would-be knight decided that he should go on a quest. Because in the stories that his mind was filled with, that’s what every brave hero and heroine did eventually. So he took his sword and he set out from home, intent upon fulfilling his quest.”

Ahiru hiccupped. “What kind of quest was it?”

“He wasn’t sure at first.” Fakir smiled ruefully down at her. “You see, he wasn’t always quite so good at thinking things out carefully before doing them – and he sometimes still isn’t, though he tries, and it was a hard-earned lesson – and he left home before working out what it was he was supposed to be doing on his quest. So he had to stop and figure it out before he got anywhere.”

“He sounds kinda silly.” She giggled a little.

“He was, a bit.” Fakir laughed, more out of relief that he had already been able to make her laugh than anything else. “After some careful thought, he decided that he ought to try and find a legendary treasure of some sort. After all, there were countless tales about people finding various mysterious objects that granted the owners wonderful things, and that sounded very nice indeed to him. So he set about searching the town for whatever he could find.”

“Did he find anything good?”

“I’m getting to that. Don’t be impatient.” He chuckled as she made a little “hmmph” noise. “He looked all around, in every place he could think of that might be an ideal hiding place for a rare treasure, but his search was fruitless at first. Just when he was beginning to get frustrated, he saw something under a pile of leaves beneath a tree. When he investigated, he found that it was a compass.”

“That was his treasure?” Ahiru frowned against him. “That doesn’t sound like a rare object.”

“And it isn’t. But he thought to himself as he looked at it that perhaps it could lead him in the direction of the real treasure he was meant to find. So he set off again through his hometown, watching the needle, and trying to figure out how he could use it to find what he wanted. He hadn’t gotten very far before an owl fluttered down from the sky in front of him. The owl was very tall, clad in robes of deep blue, and wearing spectacles over her eyes.”

“A lady owl?” Ahiru tilted her head up slightly to peer at Fakir.

“Yes. She introduced herself to him as Owlina, and asked for his name, and he told her what it was. _Please_ , she asked him, _please will you listen to my story?_ He said to her that yes, he would, because he could see that she was very wise, and he was not afraid of her. So she began to tell him her story.”

Fakir paused to take a deep breath. “ _You see, young sir, I am a scholar, and I study a great many things. Of chief interest to me are the mysteries of this town, which cannot all be solved simply by flying high above it on a clear day. One legend that has taken hold of my mind lately is that of the benevolent spirit said to inhabit a secret place that cannot be seen even from the skies. One can only reach it by traveling the waterways of this town in a very specific way, according to the directions on the compass. If a person reaches it, it is said that the spirit will reward them with three wishes. I desire to discover the truth of this story, if there is any, and so I have prepared a vessel for traversing the river. However, my trusty compass slipped from my grasp the other day when I ventured forth to collect some last supplies, and only now have I found it. It is the very compass you are holding within your hands, young one._ And she pointed with her great wing at it where it sat upon his palm. _Please, I beg of you, return it to me, that I might embark upon my journey. I will reward you well, if you will only do this thing for me._ ”

“Did he?”

Fakir nodded. “Of course he did. He had no idea how to truly use the compass, after all, and in any case he did not have the heart to refuse to return it to its true owner. The owl thanked him profusely, and in exchange for the return of her compass, bestowed him with a porcelain statue of a bird with outstretched wings.”

“What kind of bird?” Ahiru closed her eyes and leaned her head against him.

“He wasn’t sure – he was very young, and had not yet learned much about very many birds.”

“Did he at least like ducks?”

“Very much so.” Fakir kissed the top of her head, and felt her sigh happily. “He decided that he would take the statue to a shop to ask about what kind of bird it was, but before he had gotten very far, he met a wily fox, though he was not yet aware of how deceitful he was. He introduced himself as Foxbert, and asked him, _Would you like to hear a story, young one? I promise you it will be of great interest to you._ He wasn’t sure what he thought of the fox and could not tell what he was like, but he liked stories, and so he nodded at him.”

Fakir paused again, this time for dramatic effect. “ _Well then, come closer and I will tell you. You see, my boy, I have recognized the statue that you hold within your young hands. It is a very rare antique indeed, but the trick is that the statue itself is far less valuable than what lies inside. An even rarer treasure is hidden in it._ This intrigued the little would-be knight, and he eagerly asked the fox how to remove the treasure.”

“Oh no,” Ahiru said against his shoulder.

“Mmmm. Have you guessed, then?” Fakir tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “The fox laughed scornfully at him, and told him that the only way to remove what was inside was to break the statue. Naturally, the would-be knight hesitated, for he hated to break the gift that the wise owl had given him. The fox plied him with indistinct promises of what was hiding inside, however, never once telling him precisely what it was, but gradually rousing his curiosity until he could stand it no longer. And so, at last, he flung the statue onto the ground, where it promptly shattered into many pieces.”

“But there was nothing inside, right?”

“Not quite – there was one thing contained within the statue, but the fox did not see it amongst the shards lying on the street. He merely laughed raucously at the foolish young would-be knight, at the trick he had played on him, and claimed as he ran away that now he would have seven years of ill luck for willingly breaking a gift given to him.”

“Oh no!” Ahiru said again. “Was that true? Or was the fox lying again?”

“He never found out.” Fakir leaned his head against hers. “As the fox dashed away, still laughing, the would-be knight began to cry bitter tears, so sorrowful was he that he had been tricked into breaking the owl’s gift, and afraid that the fox’s parting words were true.” At that, Ahiru slid her arms out from between them and wrapped them around Fakir, giving him a small hug. “He knelt beside the broken pieces, perhaps wondering if he could take them home to his mother to glue together, and it was only then that he saw the withered seed sitting in the ruins of the gift, half-buried as the compass had been.”

“What kind of seed?”

“One that was unlike any he had ever seen before. It was the size of a cherry stone, and covered with little bumps in its otherwise smooth surface, which at first seemed to be black, but when he turned it and the light hit it, it held other colors that he saw for fleeting moments. And it was as he stood there fascinated with it, temporarily forgetting his tears, that a tapir approached him.”

“Ooh. Was it a nice tapir?”

“Yes. She introduced herself as Tapirita, and asked him why he had been crying. This reminded him of what had just happened, and he sniffled a little as he told her of the compass, and the owl, and the fox, and how he’d been tricked into breaking his gift and would now have seven years of bad luck. The tapir took pity on him, and asked if he would like to hear a story. He looked at her, and he could tell she was wealthy by her fine clothes, and so he said politely that he would.

“This is the story she told him: _Young one, do not fret, for I have heard it said that such curses may be easily undone by an act of kindness on the same day that they are received. And I see before me a way in which you may swiftly do just that. You see, you hold in your hands the withered seed of a beautiful tree long thought to be extinct, which once bore on its branches fruit that they say gave anyone who ate it wonderful dreams, so long as the fruit had not rotted._ ”

“What would happen if the fruit was rotten and they ate it anyway?” Ahiru asked.

“The would-be knight wondered this too, and he asked the tapir about it. She told him that the rotted fruit would instead bring nightmares to the one who consumed it. However, it was safe for her folk to eat in all forms, for they were immune to its powers. _And indeed,_ she said, _I must beg you to allow me to eat this seed. For many long months now, I have suffered from a mysterious illness. I have consulted with every doctor here, and tried all forms of treatment, yet nothing has worked. At last, I was told that only the withered seed of that very tree could cure me, and I despaired, because I believed that it could not be found anywhere in the world. But here you are, with that seed held in your hand, and I believe it will serve both our purposes if you will let me have it. Will you do me this kindness?_ ”

“And he did, didn’t he?”

“He did.” Fakir nodded. “For it was as she said: it served both their purposes, and in any case he did not have the heart to let her suffer any longer, any more than he would have wished to make the owl unhappy. So he gave the tapir the seed to eat, and when she had swallowed it, rewarded him with a priceless gem for his kindness. _But take care, young one,_ she warned him, _and do not let anyone trick you out of this gift. Remember the lesson you have learned today._ He promised her that he would, and thanked her again, and ran straight home, where he hid the gem away in a safe place.”

“Qua… what happened to it after that? Did he lose it?”

“Not at all.” Fakir paused for a moment. “Time and circumstance conspired to make him forget about it, and it lay untouched and secure in its hiding spot for many a year. He did not think of it again until after he was no longer a knight, and had exchanged his sword for a pen. By that time, he had fallen in love with a beautiful princess whom he treasured above all others in the world, and so he made the jewel into a gift to her.”

“A…” Ahiru’s voice trailed off, and she turned her head slightly, her gaze finding the necklace on her bedside table. It was a simple golden chain, adorned with a small, heart-shaped gem that was a dark pink on one half, and a deep green on the other; Fakir had given it to her just the day before, as a present on their first anniversary. “You – you mean you… that’s the same…”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I meant to tell you this story that night, but it slipped my mind. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” She shook her head. “I think it’s better that you told me tonight, anyway.” It was her turn to pause now. “Fakir? I think your story should end with the princess happily accepting the gift, and promising to treasure it always… but treasuring him most of all. Just like he treasures her most of all.”

Fakir smiled. “That sounds like a good ending. Will they live happily ever after, do you think?”

“As long as they have each other, they will.” She pulled back just enough to look up at him with a smile. “Thank you, Fakir. I feel better now. I think I can go back to sleep, and… dream happy dreams.”

“I’m glad.” He cupped her face in one hand, and leaned in so that he could give her a tender, lingering kiss. “Goodnight, Ahiru. Sleep better this time.”

“Wait – Fakir…” Her voice sounded slightly breathless. “Will you – will you stay with me until I fall asleep? I think it’ll be easier if I know you’re here.”

“Of course.” He trailed his fingers down her cheek, and gave her another peck on the lips. “Sweet dreams.”

She smiled back at him, and took his hand, and resettled herself against her pillow. True to his word, Fakir remained beside her until she slept once more, only then withdrawing his hand from hers.

**Author's Note:**

> This was born from what was originally a drabble prompt, but I quickly realized that it was too good to confine to a mere drabble, and so it became a full fic.
> 
> Also, as to the jewel at the end, for those who are not as into such things as I am, it is a watermelon tourmaline. Balance, harmony, emotional healing, and love are but a few of the things associated with them.


End file.
